


some people

by ryuuzaou



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Co-workers, Dialogue Heavy, First Kiss, M/M, Minor Injuries, Violence, the typical banter that happens when i write karmagisa, yeah theyre coworkers. working a hit job together. yeah.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9303680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuzaou/pseuds/ryuuzaou
Summary: Nagisa Shiota is an assassin. When he takes a job that he won't be doing alone, the second-to-last person he expects to be working with is his childhood friend, classmate, longtime-crush-he’d-never-admit-to, Karma Akabane. And yet, here they are.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> heeyyyyyyyyyy noa i know i promised you this like a million years ago but i finished it!!! it aint great but it aint awful so heres this....... yeah. ily

_“_ 1-2-2-5, do you copy?”

_“That’s so formal, I told you to just call me—”_

“This is not the time for jokes, or using your name!”

_“I was going to say ‘Handsome.’”_

“I swear to every deity there is, if I lose sight of this guy because of your stupid jokes, I’m going to kill you.”

_“You couldn’t if you tried.”_

“Oh yeah? Say some more bullshit, I dare you.”

_“Ooh, 6-20 breakin’ out the dirty words!”_

“Stop talking.”

Nagisa Shiota is an assassin, with a degree in education. In his free time, he likes browsing Wikipedia via in-article links, reading, and target practice. The third is mostly for when his brain refuses to turn off, and he needs somewhere to blow off some steam and do something mindless.

He’s only told a few people the real reason he goes to the shooting range. Most people get nervous when he says, “When I have too much on my mind and can’t pay attention to anything, I pick up a gun and shoot at things.” Sure, he’s never said it like that before, because he knows what tact is (unlike _some_ people), but that’s what they seem to hear. So he doesn’t tell people about it anymore.

Still, it’s always good to know his exact degree of accuracy that week. After all, clients don’t exactly check an assassin’s work hours before calling. They give a target and a reward, and they go from there. Sometimes a quick ‘okay’ is all a client needs to be satisfied. Sometimes they want all the juicy details you can give about yourself. That’s why Nagisa always makes sure to know his juicy details.

(Granted, he almost never mentions much more than accuracy and success rate—100%—unlike _some_ people, but he makes sure to know.)

It’s one of the former type of client that had hired him for this job. They had mentioned that he wouldn’t be working alone, and he’d been fine with that. He’ll admit, good help is hard to find, so he actually likes working with others. Maybe someday he’ll find someone worth knowing about in the future.

The second-to-last person he’d expected to see at the rendezvous point is his childhood friend, classmate, longtime-crush-he’d-never-admit-to, Karma Akabane. The last person being their dead teacher that Nagisa killed with his own hands. So, yeah, it’s a long list, and Karma is very low on it. But the place is so obscure, so far from public eyes, Nagisa doubts anyone would have known this place existed if they hadn’t been told of it. Karma’s being there couldn’t be a coincidence.

When Nagisa slips out of the shadow of the wall, he takes great pride when Karma’s eye’s widen, just barely—his only tell of being surprised, something Nagisa only knows from years of watching him.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Nagisa,” Karma says. “I knew someone was here.”

“Right, right, of course,” Nagisa agrees with a laugh. “There’s a reason you were top of the class.”

“Well, now you’re selling yourself short,” Karma chides, a lazy smile on his face. “You know they’re calling you the Child of the Reaper?”

Nagisa blinks. “No, I didn’t. Who started that?”

“Probably someone from the class.” Karma shrugs.

They stand in silence for a moment, then Karma breaks out into a grin and grabs Nagisa’s hand, pulling him forward and patting his back. Nagisa can’t help smiling too, mimicking the action.

“It’s good to see you, Karma,” Nagisa says when they part again. They’re standing closer than they need to be, he notes, tucking it into the _I Don’t Have A Crush_ file in his brain. “I wish it’d been over lunch or something, though.”

“This is basically the same thing. It’ll be easy as that, anyway.”

“You sound confident.”

“I am confident, especially with you as my partner.”

 _Partner. Partner. Partner._ Nagisa laughs. “Maybe we should get breakfast after this.”

Karma pulls his phone from a clip on his utility belt and taps the screen awake. He types in a few passcodes, then hands it to Nagisa. “If everything goes according to my plan, then we’ll be done right on time to hit up that Sunrise Den diner or whatever it’s called.”

Nagisa pauses in his reading, glancing up at him. “Karma, Sunrise Den is a strip club. It’s open _until_ sunrise. I think you mean Morning Zen.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the one.”

Nagisa has to stifle a loud laugh. “You’re the same as ever, Karma.”

“That makes one of us.”

Before Nagisa has the chance to ask what he means, Karma points to a diagram in his notes and begins to explain it, avoiding Nagisa’s gaze. He mentions some other things about the plan that Nagisa half-pays attention to, frowning at his friend with concern. If Karma notices, he doesn’t say anything.

 

* * *

 

Nagisa stands in the lobby of a hotel, one adorned with expensive urns and crystal chandeliers. He wears a classy red vest over a white dress shirt, a red tie, and black slacks; the uniform of a bellhop. He stands just within the revolving doors, smiling politely at everyone he makes eye contact with. To be honest, he isn’t the biggest fan of interacting with his targets, but hey. Karma’s plans are foolproof about 99% of the time. If he trusts anyone, Nagisa trusts Karma.

So when the target—a businessman with a dark beard and a portly stomach—enters the lobby, two bodyguards trailing behind him, Nagisa braces himself. He waits for him to check in, reads the lips of the concierge when she says, _“You’ll be staying in room 1607,_ ” has a hissed conversation with Karma through his tiny earpiece, then approaches the target with a winning smile.

“Good evening,” Nagisa says cheerfully. “Thank you for choosing _Le Bon Endroit._ May I assist you with your luggage, sir?”

The man looks over to Nagisa. He looks him over, head to toe. Hesitates. Then he smiles. “Why, thank you. Do be careful, please, there are fragile items in the duffel bag.”

Nagisa hefts the strap over his shoulder with little difficulty, carrying the man’s briefcase in the same hand. “Your belongings will be in your room when you arrive there, sir. Please enjoy the casino and open bar, just down the hall to the right.”

The bodyguards’ expressions shift just barely at the mention of the casino; they’re gamblers. That’s lucky (no pun intended). The target seems more interested in the open bar, almost breaking into a jog when he turns away without thanking him again.

In Nagisa’s ear, Karma says, _“Loop set. Go for it.”_

When the elevator doors slide open, Nagisa glances around to make sure no one is headed up and jumps into the elevator right as the doors are closing. Luck is on his side today; the elevator doesn’t stop once before floor 16. The halls are lit fairly dimly by lamps on the walls, the carpet dark green and the walls an odd taupe. They must only care about getting people hooked with the lobby and casino, considering the poor condition of the rest of the place.

At 1607, Nagisa takes the master key he’d just _happened_ to find in the back pocket of a maid and swipes. Red light. Swipe. Red light. Swipe. Green light, _click_. Nagisa pushes open the door and sets the briefcase on the desk and the duffel bag on the small luggage stand.

“In position,” Nagisa murmurs.

 _“So I saw,”_ Karma says. _“Now get the shit and get outta there.”_

Nagisa unzips the duffel, grateful for the uniform requiring white gloves. He spots a narrow box, slipping it from among the clothes that must be serving as the padding. When he cracks open the lid, there are seven cut gemstones: one red, two lavender, three teal, one faded pink. Red diamond, taaffeite, grandidierite, and poudretteite, if he remembers correctly. He moves the gems from their velvet home to the individual leather pouches the client instructed him to purchase. Replacing the box exactly the way it was, Nagisa zips the duffel bag and moves to the window. Karma had tossed a rope down the side of the building so Nagisa could climb up and meet him on the roof. He’d pull up the rope, give Karma the stones, then go back into the building through the staircase door. He would then go back to room 1607, wait for the target, and take him out.

It’s easy, compared to many missions Nagisa has taken.

At least, it’s supposed to be. It all goes south when a hand grips the collar of his jacket when he’s halfway out the window and yanks him back into the room. Nagisa pulls his arms from the coat, making to leap out the window, but before he can, a blade is pressed against his throat, immediately drawing blood.

“The fuck do you think you’re doin’?” a man, probably one of the target’s bodyguards, growls in his ear. Something presses against his back.

Nagisa takes a deep breath, then says, “Guess I wasn’t much of a sonic ninja, huh?”

Karma inhales sharply in his ear.

“Shut up!” the man says. He spins them so that they’re walking forward, then into the bathroom. “Put your hands behind your back.” A ziptie digs into the skin of Nagisa’s wrists. The chill of the knife is removed, but in the mirror, he sees that the gun is still aimed on him. Another ziptie locks his ankles together, and he’s roughly thrown into the bathtub.

“Glad to see you know better than to scream.” The man’s grin is uncomfortably reminiscent of Takaoka’s when he crouches to stare at Nagisa. “Boss’s gonna get here soon. He’ll know what to do with you. But until then…” His fist slams into the side of Nagisa’s head, knocking it against the floor of the tub. He frowns when Nagisa doesn’t make a sound, then plants his boot on Nagisa’s gut, grinding down his heel forcefully. With this, Nagisa does groan, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s never been tortured before. Probably because he’s never been caught. This is new. And it sucks.

Nagisa grits his teeth as the bodyguard kicks his stomach, again and again, tasting bile on the back of his tongue. He opens his eyes to glare at the man, spitting a mix of saliva and blood on his hand. The guy grimaces, wiping his hand on his pants and grabbing his knife.

“How ‘bout we get some red in those pretty blue eyes, huh?” he hisses, then slices across Nagisa’s brow. Nagisa shouts in pain, hot blood seeping over his eyes.

He hears the door of the hotel room slam open, banging against the wall.

“Get the _fuck_ away _—”_ A fleshy thud, followed by what sounds like something metal against what’s probably a skull— “from my Nagisa!”

Nagisa doesn’t sense the man’s presence towering over him, so he forces his eyes open, peering through the stinging redness.

The white tile floor is splattered with blood. The bodyguard is pinned against the wall by Karma, who’s jabbing his knuckles directly into the bodyguard’s solar plexus. The guy is breathless, barely even able to grunt in pain.

Between strikes, Karma is fuming, “How _dare—_ you lay—your _filthy_ hands—on— _my—Nagisa!”_

Nagisa finally has the opportunity to yank his hands free of the ziptie, scraping off a layer of skin on his wrists (which have been through worse escapes). He sits up, pulling the knife from his boot and snapping the tie around his ankles. Movements unrestricted now, Nagisa drags himself to his feet, entire abdomen aching, and grabs Karma’s wrist, stopping him from another blow.

Karma glances down at him. His eyes, dark and filled with malice, seem to lighten when he focuses on Nagisa, as if pulled from a trance. He blinks, shakes his head. Then draws back.

“I hate having to take out more than necessary,” Nagisa says, though his voice is a wheeze. The movement of his jaw tugs the skin, and the cut on his neck begins to bleed again. Nagisa ignores it in favor of taking the man’s knife from the ground, slicing it neatly across his throat, and dropping it at his feet. The cut on Nagisa’s forehead is still bleeding, but it’s mostly flowing down the sides of his nose and over the sides of his brows, so it isn’t impossible to see.

Cleanup time. Nagisa tears off a piece of the dead man’s shirt and uses it to cover his hand while he turns on the shower, watching his own blood flow pink with the water down the drain. He leaves it running, heaving the body into the tub so it’s under the fall of the water. Satisfied enough, he leaves the bathroom, his own knife in hand, ready for the target to enter—

“6-20,” Karma says, “go.” He jerks his head toward the window. Nagisa is about to protest, but when he sees Karma’s expression, he decides against it, slipping out the window and using the rope to scale the building to the roof.

Karma’s pack is still against the inner ledge. From it, Nagisa pulls antiseptic, gauze, and a bottle of water. The cut on his face has mostly clotted, though when he wets a gauze pad with water and wipes the drying blood from his brow, part of it opens to ooze a bit again. Face wounds and their bleeding, goodness gracious. He manages to clean his face up, for the most part. He’s about to begin disinfecting when Karma drops down over the short wall onto the roof.

“ _Nagisa,_ ” he breathes the moment their eyes meet, diving forward to embrace him. “You fucking idiot, you scared the shit out of me, it’s a damn good thing we came up with that stupid emergency phrase in school, god damn it, that was _terrifying,_ you jackass, you complete and total _fu—_ ”

Nagisa takes Karma’s face in his hands. Karma stops.

There’s a moment of silence, nothing but the sounds of traffic far below and their breathing: Karma’s, harsh and fast, and Nagisa’s, quiet and slow. With his hands where they are, Nagisa can tell that their heartbeats are the same. He wonders if Karma’s is pounding in his ears as loudly as Nagisa’s seems to be.

In the darkness, Nagisa can see little of Karma’s irises, pupils wide to take in all the faint light they can. Nagisa’s own eyes have adjusted, and he can quite clearly see the details of Karma’s face, his flushed cheeks and his sharp features and his lips, his lips that look so soft and lush and _feel_ so soft and lush and oh, they’re kissing now, aren’t they?

Nagisa tastes blood but that doesn’t stop him, nor does it deter Karma. It almost seems to spur him on. Karma’s hands can’t seem to settle, moving from his arms to his waist to his neck to his back before he simply gives up on that and presses Nagisa as close to him as he can. Karma withdraws just enough to have space to take a breath, but Nagisa moves a hand to the back of Karma’s neck to draw their lips together again. And again. Karma’s tongue darts along Nagisa’s lower lip, which he nips gently. Nagisa hums in delight, but is forced to break their kiss to wince as the noise sends a jolt of pain up his sternum.

Karma leans back, brow furrowed with worry. “Are you okay, Nagisa?”

“I’m fine,” he replies, more than a little breathless. “Thanks to you.”

There is silence between them as Karma wordlessly begins to dress Nagisa’s wounds, touches gentle with calloused hands. It isn’t until he’s taping gauze to Nagisa’s forehead that he speaks.

“When I saw you like that,” he begins softly, barely more than a breath, “I lost myself. When I’m in the field, I don’t have weaknesses. I pride myself on that. But tonight…” Karma cradles Nagisa’s cheek in his hand, his gaze deathly serious. “You’re my only weakness, I think. You’re all I care about enough to the extent of losing myself the way I did.”

Nagisa smiles, though it stretches the cut on his lip. Karma wipes the small drop of blood away with his thumb. “This would have been easier for you to come to terms with if I’d just gathered up the courage to confess back in school,” Nagisa jokes, resting his head into Karma’s touch. The two laugh in the way that only trusting lovers can. Karma is the one to break it and speak again:

“I doubt Morning Zen will be chill about you walking in there like nothing’s wrong,” he says, and Nagisa nods in agreement, “so why not we head to my place and I can make you something?”

“I wouldn’t trust you to make toast, Karma.”

“Don’t stop at toast, I can make scrambled eggs, too!”

“Let’s go to your place,” Nagisa relents. He rises to his feet, and Karma grabs the bag before he gets the chance. “I’ll be the one cooking.”

“Sure hope you making me breakfast isn’t a one-time thing,” Karma mentions as they prepare to take a running jump to the next rooftop.

Nagisa glances over at him, winks, and throws himself across the gap. Karma shouts after him, “It won’t be, right? Right?” and doesn’t see Nagisa’s amused, affectionate grin.


End file.
